Care for one another. Take care of one another.
I do not believe our father was a good man. Perhaps it makes no difference to you. After all, you hardly knew him. But it makes all the difference in the world to our mother. He victimised her — exploited her — and she never got a chance to live her own life. You need to forgive her. Don’t try to fix her. No, don’t put yourself through that… Start by forgiving her; showing her that love can be true and unconditional. She’ll fix herself. One day.
Be patient.
Be patient and be kind… With each other and with those around you. Don’t ever fight unless you’re fighting for your principles. And, in those cases, fight to the death!
Never relent if you believe in something — never give up.
Yes, if you’re reading this, it means I’ve lost. I’m sorry that I can’t wage life’s battles with you anymore… Yes, I lost… But don’t you despair! You will be better and you were always going to be better. Better warriors, lovers, creators and conquerors.
Champions!
That was my dream for you. I wanted you to have more than I had and to become more than I ever could… I wanted to give you everything.
All the money is yours now, but don’t hesitate to throw it in the sea. Be happy at any cost! Trust yourselves completely.
I never doubted you, so never doubt each other.
Maybe we’ll see each other again. Maybe there’s a heaven above, but do not rush to dance with the angels.
Live the best life possible. A rebellious and rambunctious life, filled with unadulterated joy and fun.
And don’t let my loss weigh too heavy. Please… Don’t do that.
Love you always,
Oliver.
61 • Panthers
My body felt numb as the reality of the moment hit me. With each second that passed, I was reminded that this was no nightmare I could wake up from.
They cuffed us to an exposed pipe in what seemed to be a derelict old classroom before taking the sacks off our heads. We were on our asses; vulnerable as our captor gloated with vile smugness.
The man standing over us was tall, skinny and oily. His English was weak, but he’d seen enough action movies to put together a terrorist’s speech. “We wiped out your entire convoy,” he boasted. “Killed every last one of your men. Used our bare-hands for the ones we didn’t shoot.”
Bastard!
My sisters… Skylar…
I looked down at the floor and I knew I’d faint if I couldn’t find something to hold onto. An idea or a scrap of hope — something to give me the will to survive.
I could kill myself once we were free, but I couldn’t let Alicia down. I would kill myself and snuff out reality in the process. Why should I live without Tecla and without Elle? If living meant spending each day trapped by grief and guilt?
Yes, I had to find a scrap of hope, but I didn’t need to hang onto it for longer than necessary. Long enough to get Alicia out of there alive.
The oily man walked from one side of the room to the other. His eyes drilled into my soul. “The Americans paid us first. They wanted you dead, but then this Englishman came along… He said he wants to kill you himself. You will get to live while we wait for him to come. Your companion, on the other hand, is of no use to us… But, we’ll be sure to have some fun with her before cutting her throat.”
Oily-man laughed and knelt before Alicia. As he reached out to stroke her cheek, she struck fast and fierce, biting his hand and not letting go until he ripped it away. To add insult to injury, she spat his own blood back at him.
“Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!” the man shouted before slapping his wounded hand across her face. He screamed that she was a whore before winding up for an ever heavier blow. Out of instinct, I kicked my leg out and hit his shin. He fell to his hands and knees, quickly recovering to pounce on me. His fist crashed against my cheek once and the pain was unbearable. He did it a second time and the pain got worse. Then he hit me a third time, in the stomach, and that hurt more than both the other blows combined. But, I didn’t care…
He couldn’t kill me and the pain was nothing compared to the pain I would inflict on him.
I knew then and there what would be my scrap of hope and my reason to live. As he kept beating me — as I heard Alicia beg him to stop — I found a reason to smile. The reason was hatred; my motivation vengeance.
As the heavy-blows faded into a limp-wristed tantrum, the man could see the rage on my face and he recoiled. He happily realised I could do nothing about it and laughed at my impotent anger. The good thing was he seemed to have lost interest in Alicia as he left the room with a snicker of self-satisfaction.
“Are you okay?” I whispered, coughing through wounded lungs.
My companion turned to me with eyes that had something of the devil behind them. They were determined eyes that told me she wanted to put up the mother of all fights. “I’ve never been better,” she said, gritting her teeth as the beating’s pain reverberated.
Thinking about the threats our captor made — knowing what Alicia had been through when she was younger — I wanted to assure her. “I won’t let them touch you.”
“Don’t worry, sir. I’ll do to him what I did to the last man… Kill him.”